


Speechless

by Katelynneelderledge



Series: Songfic [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/F, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Songfic, Swearing, and mrs figg lives in little whinging not london, canon alcoholism, character cameos, no that's not sam winchester, that would be utterly preposterous, this is late and rushed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-21
Updated: 2013-08-21
Packaged: 2017-12-24 06:27:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/936488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katelynneelderledge/pseuds/Katelynneelderledge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A study in how alcohol does/could affect the relationships in BBC Sherlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Speechless

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, this fic will include different relationships, both canon and not, and is a very last minute entry into Lets Write Sherlock's third challenge.

The sun lights up the apartment in which Harry Watson wakes from her pose on the couch. She stirs and groans. Her head pounds and the light blurs her vision until her brain is one unpleasant rave. Her stomach is churning and her throat is sore but she forces out a whimper. 

“John?” she rasps “John, I need water. And paracetemol.” God, where was her brother? When no-one replies she swings her numb legs off the sofa (why the hell was she sleeping on her own godamn sofa?) and hobbles to the kitchen: wrapped in a duvet. She grabs a couple of beers out her fridge and bottle opener from the side, and stumbles back to the sofa. 

Harry is in favour of the Tony Stark-style hangover cure, she joke to herself: never stop drinking. As she sit and sips she soon begins to realise that her brother wasn’t in the house. Groaning, she drags her brain half into gear. Vacant eyes vocusing on the clock she notes that it isn’t even time for his afternoon limp around the park. She fumbles for her phone before realising. John doesn’t own a phone, the technophobe. So she wraps herself up in her duvet cocoon.  
Times passes indeterminately so her consciousness slowly drifts away. 

 

~

 

John sighed as he dropped the key instead of slipping it into the lock. Great, just brilliant. He leant heavily on the cane and the wall outside Harry’s apartment. His fingers are stretched to within an inch of the key as a voice rang down th hall. “What’s up Doc?” John leapt to standing and pushed himself away from the wall. “Oh, uh, hey Sam. I just dropped my key, ‘s all.” God, couldn’t the ground swallow him whole? 

The towering twenty-something strolled up to him. Sam lived in one of the nicer apartments down the road, but he helped one of the old ladies down the hall occasionally – Mrs Bigg? Figg? Something like that anyway. He scooped the key up and handed it over, John’s hand clasping the flesh-warmed metal. This time his hand was steady as he unlocked the door. He pushed down the handle, but then turned back to the waiting man. “So, how’s life Sam?” Sam smiled and shrugged. “Same old same old, Uni coursework yanking me down and Jess pulling me back up by the scruff of my neck.” John nodded. “Uh, I gotta go, sorry Doc. See you around.” John smiled and tipped his head “Sure.” He affirmed, then stepped further into the apartment and closed the door behind him. 

He hesitated in the hall before proceeding to the kitchen. He poured a glass of water and walked into the living roo to find his sister passed out on the sofa. “Harry,” he sid in a low voice, gently rocking her shoulder. “Harry, you need to drink.” A self-pitying groan rose from the duvet pile. “I think I’ve got the hang of that one John.” John sighed in irritation as his beloved sister arose from her mound. “Why weren’t you here when I woke up?” she accused. Oh, well. That answered the question of whether she remembered what happened last night. “Such a good doctor you are.” And there came the insults. It just wouldn’t be a visit to Harry if they weren’t there. Lately he’d been forcing himself to tolerate them, because she was giving him a place to live. But not any more. 

“Actually Harry, I’m a very good doctor. You would know that if you’d actually come to my graduation ceremony, but no. You had a very important something else to do, were you washing your hair?” Harry stared in shock. Then scoffed, “So you’ve given up being grateful then? I’m giving you a place to stay after you got yourself fucking kicked out of the army. Yeah, you’re obviously a brilliant doctor. You couldn’t save yourself or the poor sods depending on you.” John scrunched his free hand into a fist.

“No, Harry. You gave me a place to stay. Not ‘are giving’. You kicked me out last night, and for some reason, I think I’ll stay gone.”

 

~

 

Harry stops and stares and her baby brother. He’s standing so stiffly in her living room. Her anger crashes away as the memories of last night flood in.


End file.
